Chapter 3: Read Receipts
The message stayed unread for eight minutes.
Aariyah knew the exact number because she watched it tick forward, minute by minute, like a quiet accusation. The bus turned corners, horns blared, a child laughed somewhere behind her — but her world had narrowed to the small glowing screen in her hand.
She hadn't replied after Just tired.
She didn't know what else to say.
Her phone vibrated again.
Ishaan: Did I do something wrong?
The words sat politely, carefully arranged. They always were. Ishaan never shouted. He never accused outright. He simply asked questions that made her feel guilty for needing space.
At home, her room smelled faintly of dust and jasmine oil. She shut the door and sat on the edge of the bed, shoes still on, uniform wrinkled from the day. Outside, the rain had stopped, leaving the night slick and reflective.
She typed.
No. I just want some quiet.
The double ticks appeared almost instantly.
Then nothing.
Five minutes passed.
Ten.
Her chest tightened. Silence from Ishaan felt louder than his constant presence. She wondered when she had learned to fear quiet more than conflict.
Finally, a reply.
Ishaan: Okay. I'll give you space.
She stared at the sentence. It should have felt like relief.
Instead, it felt like a warning.
Another message followed.
Ishaan: But don't shut me out. People who love each other don't do that.
Aariyah placed the phone face-down on the bed.
She stood and walked to the mirror. The girl looking back at her seemed older than she felt — eyes tired, shoulders slightly hunched, as if bracing against something invisible.
She remembered how Ishaan had once said, I just want to protect you.
She remembered how good it had felt to be someone's priority.
But priorities, she was learning, could become prisons if the doors were locked from the outside.
Her phone buzzed again.
She didn't pick it up.
Instead, she opened the window. Cool air rushed in, carrying the distant sounds of the city — buses, dogs barking, someone calling out a name. Life, unmonitored.
For the first time that day, she breathed without checking the time.